


Baby, You Burn Bright Like My Stars

by teamfreeawesome



Series: I Just Know I Can't Stop Thinking Of You [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Swearing, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam isn’t Zayn’s to want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, You Burn Bright Like My Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Right. This. THIS. It has taken me three months, too much chocolate and a BUCKET LOAD OF TEARS to get through this. I got stuck about halfway (and I'm sure you'll be able to tell) and I just _couldn't_ make it _work_. And then I got writer's block. And then I lost inspiration. And then I got a load of reading at uni. And THEN I was like I AM GONNA FUCKING WRITE THIS SHIT. 
> 
> So, finally, the next installment.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not true. It's a work of fiction and no harm was meant by the writing of this. To me: fanfiction One Direction are fictional characters. I don’t, in any way, equate the stories to their real-life counter parts, because they aren’t the same people. Also, please, nobody send this to anyone included in this fic or anyone that they know.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. <3

Living with Harry is _hard_.

Zayn thinks that sharing a flat with Harry is like having permanent second-hand vulnerability. Being in proximity with Harry inspires an _openness_ that leaves Zayn shaking, the essence of him scraped raw as he _bares_ himself. And sometimes it’s all too _much._ Zayn shares and shares moments of himself until he’s left a _husk_ , quivering under the protection of his duvet as he tries to gather the pieces of his existence to himself - scrabbling to find where they’ve scattered.

Occupying the same space as Harry is like having skin stretched too tight over bones; it’s revealing and uncomfortable, but also just the right shade of _ouch_. It’s like pressing his thumb hard into a bruise until he’s shivering with the ache of it. It’s flat plains of flesh pulled taught over elbows and knees as he breathes. It’s the toast left to char behind him as he burns under dimpled smiles. It’s gazing into the _bright_ of Harry and feeling it warm him from the inside, even as it strips away all his defences. It’s the curl of _stop, please_ because it’s all too _much_.

And Harry is Zayn’s best friend, but sometimes it’s all Zayn can do to exist alongside him without feeling burnt out from all that he’s given. He spends evenings feeling out of kilter with the world – like his heart is beating half a second out of sync – and every brush of air feels tender against his skin. He’s left aching and raw, and Zayn – he can’t _share_ this much. He’s not _made_ that way.

But being surrounded by Harry also draws out elements of Zayn that he didn’t know he contained. Harry lights the hiss of protectiveness inside Zayn, manifesting itself as slick, hot, rivulets of anger when someone makes Harry cry – Zayn’s fists clenched and mouth pulled tight against the fury.

See, the _heart_ of Harry has seeped into the walls and saturated the floor of their flat - and every breath Zayn takes tastes like _breakable_. Harry gives pieces of himself so _recklessly_ that Zayn aches with it. It’s a pulse of _worry_ – because he knows exactly where this is headed. Harry bares his heart daily and he’s left so _vulnerable_ – so easy to crack and ruin. He’s bright and easy and _soft_ – and Zayn feels the burn of protectiveness wind itself around his ribs. He wants to wrap Harry up in _strength_ because it seems like each new week is accompanied by heartbreak - someone new finding a way to _wreck_ Harry and leave his heart shattered on their kitchen floor. It seems like every evening that Zayn finds a tearful Harry curled up around his latest baking disaster, flour in his hair as he cries.

But somehow _Louis_ has wriggled his way under Zayn’s defences and squeezed himself so deeply into Harry’s heart that Harry’s _blood_ pumps with the sound of him. He’s burnt a blazing trail across Harry’s insides – and Zayn’s can’t even _hate_ him because he’s absolutely _everything_ Harry’s ever needed. He just. Needs Louis to be _careful_. Because it hurts Zayn to watch Harry’s face crumple at every shared touch between Liam and Louis. So, he curls up around Harry and listens as both their hearts crack – a shatter of _oh_ as they breathe. He wraps himself around their hearts and tries to build his defences _tall_ as Harry clings to Zayn’s shirt and sobs.

But the thing is. Zayn may be much _pricklier_ than Harry – his heart kept far more protected – but somehow Liam has burrowed under his spines and curled up, soft and warm, around Zayn’s ribs.

And Zayn has no idea what to do.

*

Zayn feels like his every waking moment is filled with Liam. Zayn’s heart beats to the sound of him and his chest aches with _wanting_.

Because Liam is _warmth_ and _kindness_ and _generosity_. He’s woollen jumpers and warm hugs as it snows outside. He’s smiles and understanding all wrapped up in the very essence of _Liam_. And he makes Zayn feel so _full_ of love - like he’s drunk on affection. He wants to roll up in a blanket of Liam and sleep for ten years – because everything about him makes Zayn feel _safe_.

Liam is _everywhere_ , in everything Zayn does. Harry drinks the last of the milk, grin smug and cheeks stretched wide as Zayn whinges – and Zayn can’t help but think of the crinkle of Liam’s smile. He buys art supplies for his latest project and ends up picking colours closest to how Liam makes him feel, because he’s full to the _brim_ with Liam and everything that he feels is overflowing into the everyday.

Zayn feels like he’s slowly floating across the sky on a cloud of Liam’s _intense_ and it’s both wonderful and aching. It’s everything he wants but nothing he can have.

And the thing is, he desperately wants _sweet_. He wants soft kisses pressed into the crook of his neck as Liam holds Zayn tight to his chest, big hands spread across his belly as he licks _happy_ into Zayn’s mouth. But. Zayn also wants to _mess_ Liam up. Wants to press him back against sheets and bite _mine_ into skin. He wants to _taste_ Liam – lick a stripe of _i want you_ across his neck. Zayn knows that sometimes Liam struggles to realise his own _worth_ – has heard Louis talking about it with Harry _(and doesn’t that just break Harry’s heart in two)_ – and he wants to _teach_ Liam his importance. Wants to map out Liam’s body with his tongue and breathe love out across his back as he traces letters of passion into Liam’s shoulder blades.

It’s just. Liam is the _nicest_ person Zayn has ever met – he’s a _fireman_ and watches Disney movies and _cries_ – and it makes him want to bite his _bad_ under Liam’s ribs. He wants to shuck his leather jacket and kiss _naughty_ into Liam’s skin. It’s ridiculous that Liam can be so _sweet_ and _hot_ at the same time – it seems a desperate contradiction – and Zayn wants to wreck him a little. Wants to drag him out into the dust and rake his nails urgently over Liam’s bare back. Wants to wrap his fists into Liam’s hair and fuck him hard into the mattress. Wants to bite marks into Liam’s neck and show everyone that he’s _Zayn’s_ – that Zayn is the only one that gets to take him home. He _wants_.

But Liam isn’t Zayn’s _to_ want.

*

Zayn wakes to the shrill sound of the fire alarm, his ears ringing painfully as he curses into his pillow. He glances sleepily at his clock on the bedside table and sighs. It’s late enough that there isn’t any point in going back to sleep. He thinks it would be pretty impossible to go back to sleep anyway, with the alarm now accompanied by the sound of swearing floating in from the kitchen. Zayn rolls over and glares at the ceiling for a moment, before bracing himself and throwing the covers off. He squeaks at the shock of the cold and, scrabbling desperately for the duvet lying in a heap on the floor where he kicked it, succeeds only in toppling off his bed with a muffled _“shit!”_ as his legs tangle in his sheets on the way down.

Zayn sighs pitifully and lets his head fall forward onto the carpet in resignation. Cold air brushes against his bare leg and he shivers. A piece of fluff from the carpet tickles his nose and he sneezes grumpily. He definitely should _not_ be awake right now – and if it’s Louis who has set the fire alarm off he’s going to be so _pissed_. Louis is banned from the kitchen for a _reason_ (and Zayn would quite like to forget the porridge incident – he hadn’t known it could even reach that consistency).

He supposes that he should probably get up, but he doesn’t _want_ to. Kicking his feet petulantly and pouting, Zayn grumbles into the floor. Sighing, he pushes himself up and unwraps the sheet from where it has apparently tried to _mummify_ him. He grabs his towel from amongst the pile of clothes on the floor and makes his way towards the bathroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he goes.

*

Zayn steps out of the shower in a thoroughly foul mood. Harry had used the last of his shower gel, meaning Zayn had had to use the manky bar of soap that had been there since they’d moved in. To make matters worse, the hot water had cut out halfway through washing his hair. Grumbling, eyebrows pulled tight together and pout firmly in place, Zayn grabs another towel from the airing cupboard on his way past to dry his hair with.

The fire alarm finally stops sounding and Zayn feels his shoulders unknot. Breathing a sigh of relief he drags on his clothes, stopping only to fidget with his hair in the mirror – gelling it in an approximation of how he normally does it, too tired to really _care_.

He sniffs at himself in the mirror, but since _Liam_ is the only one he wants to impress - and he’s seen Zayn vomiting into the loo, sweaty, hair deflated and skin clammy after a night out - it’s not like his appearance _matters_.

Kicking grumpily at a pair of discarded boxers on his floor, Zayn grabs a pair of socks before heading towards the kitchen.

*

Zayn walks through the kitchen door only to be confronted by Liam’s back, shirt stretched tight across his shoulders as he flips bacon in a frying pan. Zayn’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Liam’s muscles work – his scapula strong against the material. Liam’s humming to himself as he cooks and Zayn wants to _love_ him. It’s moments like this that burn under Zayn’s skin, building and building until they reach a crescendo of adoration that he can’t contain.

Zayn wants to wake up to this every morning – Liam soft and content as he moves around the kitchen. Wants to walk up behind him and slip his hands around Liam’s waist, palm warm as he tucks it under Liam’s sleep-shirt. He wants to lean his chin on Liam’s shoulder as he watches him cook, humming softly along with him. Wants to press sweet morning kisses under Liam’s ear. Wants to breathe _sex_ out against Liam’s skin, until the food is left to blacken and they’re late for work.

But Zayn can’t _have_ that – and it aches.

Clearing his throat, Zayn crosses the room to the dining table, squashing the domestic thoughts deep.

“Um-” he begins.

Liam turns round with a jolt, spatula held high like an offensive weapon.

“Oh my god, Zayn. Hi. Shit, you scared me.” Liam takes a deep breath before smiling.

Zayn shrugs and toes the edge of a kitchen tile.

“Sorry,” he says, looking up and flashing an apologetic smile at Liam. “It’s nice to see you and all,” he continues, “but what’re you doing here?”

“Oh yeah, sorry! Me and Haz are heading to the gym after we’ve eaten – I’ve been left in charge of the bacon whilst he changes. Um. Sorry about the fire alarm. I just – accidentally set some baked beans on fire?” Liam says, abashed.

“How – what – How did you even _manage_ that?” Zayn asks, incredulous.

A blush spreads across Liam’s cheeks as he ducks his head in embarrassment.

(Zayn wants to _lick_ a stripe across his skin).

“I’m not even sure. Harry had _literally_ just left the room. And I tried flapping a tea-towel at it, right? But that just made the flames bigger! And the fire alarm kept going and _going_ and I _knew_ you were asleep and – ugh. I _hate_ cooking.” He says, getting steadily more flustered with each word.

“Liam. What - You’re a _fireman_.”

Liam blushes even brighter.

“I know, I _know_. But I was panicking about waking you up and like, I could hear Harry laughing at me and I just _lost_ it. It’s like my brain flew out a window. I promise I know what to do, usually. I wouldn’t have let the fire spread!”

Zayn’s laughing almost hysterically, air coming in gasps as he holds onto the corner of the table. He flaps his hand at Liam, an overwhelming fondness for him trickling through Zayn’s veins.

“I wouldn’t Zayn. You know that, right? That I’d stop any fire _really_. That I wouldn’t let anything hurt you _or_ Harry?”

“Liam. I know. But seriously, man, what the fuck?”

“I _know,_ ” Liam whinges, sinking down the counter slightly. “You’re going to tell Louis, aren’t you?”

“Oh mate, I’m gonna tell _everyone_ ,” Zayn chuckles. “This is too good to pass up.”

Still laughing quietly, Zayn steps around Liam to flick the kettle on. The heating has been on a while, but the tiles are still cold beneath his feet. Hopping up on the counter next to the kettle, the cooker on its other side, Zayn pulls his socks on.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Liam admonishes. “That’s not very hygienic.”

Zayn just shrugs and pulls Liam against him, ruffling at his short hair before dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“Zayn,” Liam laughs, pushing at him. “Stop, the bacon – the _bacon_.”

The sound of Harry chuckling at them from the doorway jolts them both and Zayn ruffles Liam’s hair once more before letting go.

“Hey Haz,” he says grinning. “Did Liam tell you he set the baked beans on-”

Liam turns from the bacon again, swatting at Zayn.

“ _Zayn_ ,” he mutters, flapping at him. “Stop, oh my god,” he says, slapping a hand over Zayn’s mouth. “Don’t listen to him, Harry. Nothing happened. At all.”

Harry grins.

“Reckon this is something to do with the fire alarm,” he says, eyes sparkling with humour. “I can take over cooking duties now. It’s probably best, to be fair.”

Harry heads across the kitchen, stopping only to tickle Zayn’s feet on his way.

“Alright, Zaynie?” He asks, grabbing the spatula from Liam and waving him away from the frying pan.

“Sleeeeepyyy,” Zayn whinges, rubbing at his eyes pitifully.

“Of course you are,” Harry laughs, before turning to Liam. “You can set the table, Li.”

Liam grins and heads to the cupboards. Zayn pours himself a cup of tea before settling back against the cupboard behind him, pulling his feet out of Liam’s way.

“What’re you guys planning on doing at the gym, then?” Zayn asks around a mouthful of tea.

Harry flips some bacon onto the plates Liam has carefully laid out before grinning up at Zayn.

“It’s this thing called exercise, Zayn. Dunno if you’ve heard of it?”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn flips Harry off with his free hand.

“Leeeeyumm? Whatchya gonna do todayyyy?” He whines, widening his eyes and fluttering his lashes in Liam’s direction.

Liam swallows, his cheeks staining pink slightly.

“Um. Weights? A few weights and Hazza’s having a go on the treadmill. Do you – d’you wanna come with us?” Liam asks, voice hesitant.

Zayn feels his eyes widen in horror. The combination of both exercise and a shirtless, sweaty Liam sounds like _torture_ – and a little bit like a dream he had recently.   

“Um, I –I have class, but, uh, maybe next time?”

Harry snorts incredulously.

“Are you kidding? Zayn won’t even look at a gym when we walk past it. There’s no way we’d get him _in_ one.” He flashes a smile at Zayn to soften his words.

Zayn smiles back, before sticking his tongue out.

“Shut it mate. He’s right though,” he continues, turning to Liam. “I am deathly afraid of exercise. Speaking of – sort of, ha. I’d best head off so I don’t end up having to _run_ for my bus. I think I’d die.”

He hops off the counter and drains the last bit of his tea. Popping his mug in the sink, he hears the sound of the post dropping through the door.

“I’d best get that, then.” Liam says, sighing slightly and rising from the table. He looks mournfully at the steaming plate Harry has just set in front of him. “You guys never pick up the post. And then, like, you ring me at the end of the month shrieking about bills because you don’t notice they’re all piled up by the shoe rack.”

Harry and Zayn both grin innocently, fluttering their eyelashes at Liam.

“You’re the best, Li.” Harry calls, as both Zayn and Liam head towards the door.

Liam bends down to pick up the collection of important looking envelopes that have gathered by the door as Zayn shrugs into his coat. Zayn glances quickly at his phone, before opening the door and barrelling out as quickly as possible. Liam follows behind, leaning against the door frame as Zayn frantically pats his pockets down to check he has everything he needs. Flicking his gaze up the road, Zayn sees his bus turning into their street.

“Shit,” he says, calculating his chances of getting to the bus stop in time.

Turning quickly to Liam, he pecks him quickly on the mouth before skidding off down their path.

“Bye Liam, love you!” He shouts as he goes, a flutter of his hand replacing an actual wave.

He makes it to the bus stop by the skin of his teeth.

*

It’s not until Zayn is seated in his first lecture, quietly waiting for his Art History tutor to arrive, that he realises what he did. Letting out a horrified sound, he sinks down in his seat. His bottom lip trembles and he runs a hand over his face, breathing deeply in an effort to regain his control.

He _kissed_ Liam. He told Liam he _loved_ him. But Liam – he doesn’t _like_ Zayn like that. Not the way Zayn likes him. But he’s so _sweet_ , so he’ll try to let Zayn down gently. He’ll tell Zayn he’s flattered, but he doesn’t feel the same way – that he loves someone else. And the thing is, Zayn knows it’ll be painful for Liam too – knows that Liam would _want_ to love Zayn _for_ Zayn. To save him the heartbreak.

Zayn feels like his heart is shattering – and it _hurts_. He doesn’t want to go home and _see_ Liam because it’s going to _bruise_. But Liam is such a big part of his life that even a little bit less of him is going to _kill_ Zayn.

He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, ignoring the prickling of tears in the corners of his eyes – because crying isn’t going to make _anything_ better.

And Zayn –

He really, really hopes it’s going to be okay, but he doesn’t think it _will_ – because Liam is _everything_ and Zayn has wanted him for so _long_. And now he’s screwed it up (screwed up their friendship) through his own _stupidity_ and he wants to _punch_ himself.

So, it's not.

It’s not okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am massively, massively disappointed with this. I actually cannot stand to look at it any more, so please feel free to point out typos and stuff. If I re-read it one more time I may scream. I lost the will to live part way through and the ending is rushed and UGH I HATE IT.
> 
> But. I reached a point where either I had to finish it or it would get left forever as a partly written shitty thing in my documents. So. The ending is fucking appalling.
> 
> Also. It has given me so much trouble that I feel disinclined to continue. I recognise that people were quite enjoying it, and I have a whole, like, universe of stuff in my head - so if you want to know what happens, drop me a line and I'll let you know what was planned ;) I may change my mind at a later date and write something else for this, but at the moment I really don't have the capacity to even think about it.
> 
> **Edit: Having sat down and chatted to a couple of people (and also replied to a few comments) I have come to the conclusion that I need to bring this to it's proper end. It may take a while, though, because at the moment I absolutely need to take a break from the series before I punch it in the face from sheer over-exposure *cries***   
>  **So, I'm going to conclude the series in the way that I had planned - but it may take me a long while to get there. :S  
>  **You guys are all super-lovely, though, and it's really nice to hear that you've been enjoying the series! I'm sorry to have dropped such a disappointing endnote on you all. I had reached a point of no return by the time I posted it - I'd literally been staring at it for** _months_. A nice trip to the pub did soothe my disgruntled feelings somewhat, however, so any future fics added to the series can be attributed to the soothing powers of a warm pub atmosphere :P **
> 
>  
> 
> **But seriously, I love you all and I'm very, very sorry :S**


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